in the fork of a tree--made of crooked sticks and lined with
leaves, bark, etc.

Eggs--two to four in number, bluish white, thickly speckled with brown.

Iris in young bird's eyes yellow--turning to reddish brown with
maturity.

ALL ABOUT THE RAVEN

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS

Three times the size of robin.

Does not migrate, but is usually resident in the place where it can
best provide for itself and family.

Is glossy black in colour, with gleams of purple and green
above--duller underneath.

Flies in wide circles high above the tree-tops, and utters a weird,
uncanny cry, which has given it the name of being a bird of ill omen,
and to many people the cry of the raven is deemed a sign of approaching
evil.

Nest very compactly built of sticks and grasses and lined with wool
from sheep's back. Nest is used year after year, being often relined
and made habitable.

Young when first hatched are black and white--they however change to
entire black in a very short time.

Food of the raven is varied, apparently anything edible which comes in
his way--grain, seeds, grubs, worms, field-mice, fruit, are found on
his menu.

THE KINGFISHER

OR HALCYON BIRD

WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN

"Please, Jack," begged Phyllis.

"Girls always talk," replied Jack.

"I will not say a word to you--indeed I will not."

"Well, if you spoil my fishing--" began Jack.

"And I'll pick thimbleberries for our lunch," said Phyllis, eagerly.

So it happened that a small girl in a great sunbonnet followed a small
boy with a still larger straw hat and a fishing-pole and line, out of
the back gate and down the lane.

True to her promise, Phyllis said nothing, but trudged along behind
Jack with wide open, watchful brown eyes.

By and bye the children came to a pond of shining, clear water. How
still everything seemed, how brightly the sun shone!

"Now if you talk you'll scare the fish," said Jack, with an air of
great importance.

"I will not talk," Phyllis whispered back, shutting her lips very
tightly and sitting down beside her brother with a little sigh.

Jack threw his line--Phyllis watched with awe. They sat for a moment
waiting for a "bite."

Then Jack jerked the line up sharply, not so much because he thought he
had caught something, as because he hoped he would catch something.

"I don't believe there are any fish here," he grumbled at last.

But Phyllis's bright eyes had caught sight of somethi